


Two Lives With You

by FaustusianSutcliff



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aziraphale and Crowley are Adam Young's Parents, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is in a coma and living in a dream world, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Professor Aziraphale, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), crowley is missing a piece of himself, gabriel is a bit of an asshole but also helps, mentions of torture, no actual torture shown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaustusianSutcliff/pseuds/FaustusianSutcliff
Summary: A group of rogue angels who feel that Aziraphale and Crowley were not punished enough for their part in stopping Armageddon, attack and leave Crowley beaten and broken on Gabriel's doorstep in Heaven. Left in a coma to heal from his wounds, Crowley finds himself in another life where he and Aziraphale are human and happy with their son Adam. Angels, demons, and the apocalypse an outcome of too many glasses of wine and reading Aziraphale's manuscript with characters reminiscent of his dreams. But are they really just dreams, or is the life he's living a dream itself.As Aziraphale works to find the angels responsible for hurting Crowley, reluctantly, alongside agents of Heaven and Hell, Crowley finds himself falling deeper and deeper into this second life that maybe is the life he wants to live after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short, I literally could not go to sleep until I started writing this idea out and this is the result. For the most part, Crowley's point of view takes place entirely in his mind, but I will make sure to differentiate the two. My first time writing for Good Omens and a fic that switches points of view like this. I hope you like it!

**CHAPTER 1:**

There were a few things that Crowley registered when he began to wake up. He was pleasantly warm cocooned in the thick comforters. The second was the insistent pressure on his bladder. The final was the very distinct lack of angel in bed with him. While Aziraphale didn’t always indulge in sleep the way Crowley did, he was content to lie in bed next to Crowley with one hand in his hair, the other quietly turning the pages in whatever book he was currently reading. 

He cracked open one eye to see a small cup, wisps of heat rising from the top indicating that it was still hot, and possibly just prepared. The only culprit, of course, being Aziraphale and Crowley felt even warmer at the idea of Aziraphale having made him a cup of tea to wake up to. 

The sun may have woken Crowley up, but the waiting cup of tea, and the promise of possibly coaxing Aziraphale back into bed for a lie-in, and the pressing need of his bladder, propelled him out of bed. 

The year since the Apocalypse That Wasn't had not only made a way for their respective offices to get off their backs, it also added new depth to their relationship. Feelings they both had, but thought the other didn't have came to the surface a few weeks after their respective trials, and while there were still... trepidations on both parts. Things had relatively remained the same. 

Except there was some kissing, handholding, open affection in general (mainly on Aziraphale's part but Crowley wasn't going to complain), sometimes they would partake in one of the human's favorite pass time of sex**, but not very often, and waking up to tea hand prepared by Aziraphale. 

Crowley sat up, dragged a hand through his hair, he hadn't gotten around to cutting it lately so it hung in loose strands and curled just past his shoulders and picked up the tea. It was just the way he liked it. Just shy of too hot. 

He glanced at the mirror in passing and the teacup shattered on the bathroom floor. He braced one hand on the sink and the other touched the face of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes. They were the color of molten gold. The color of molten gold with no slits. 

They were perfectly human. 

“Crowley?...My dear, what happened?” 

Crowley turned as Aziraphale appeared in the bathroom doorway. He was dressed in a cream-colored sweater with a light blue buttoned-up dress shirt underneath and tan trousers. He wanted to take a step forward but Aziraphale held out a hand to stop him.

“My...my eyes,” Crowley looked back at the mirror. 

He pulled his hair back and squinted as his reflection. Nothing changed. 

“They’re lovely eyes,” Aziraphale picked his way over the broken cup and Crowley frowned to himself when he didn’t just miracle it back together. 

“They’re not my eyes,” Crowley said. 

“Of course they are my dear,” Aziraphale replied. “They’re uniquely yours.” 

“But...they’re not serpentine,” Crowley felt the need to stress. “And...and why didn’t you just fix the cup?” he snapped his fingers for effect but nothing happened. He did again with the same result. 

“Love, have you been reading my manuscript after one glasses of wine again? You know how it gives you such silly dreams,” Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s lower back with a fond smile. 

“Silly dreams?” Crowley echoed. “But...the apocalypse? And the antichrist? We...we switched places…”

There was a tinge of amusement mixed in with his fond smile. “If only my students had a wild imagination as you do. Perhaps I need to confiscate the manuscript from you for a few weeks. Let your mind settle.” 

“No!...I...I mean no,” Crowley managed a small smile. “I’m sorry Angel, I’m just not fully awake yet. You know me, a few glasses of wine and I think there’s a Kraken living at the bottom of the ocean...Where are you going all dressed up?” 

“Gabriel decided to call an unscheduled budget meeting,” Aziraphale didn’t sound too pleased. “I had hoped we could enjoy our last day with a lie-in before we had to pick up Adam, but knowing Gabriel I won’t be home ‘til late afternoon.” 

Crowley blinked owlishly. _Adam?_

“Are you sure you’re alright my dear?” Aziraphale looked worried. He reached up to cup Crowley’s cheek. 

“I’m fine, do you need a lift?” Crowley lied. 

“That’s alright, perhaps you should get a little more rest,” Aziraphale told him. “I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m on my way home alright?” 

Crowley nodded and the next instant felt Aziraphale’s lips against his own, in a soft chaste kiss. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Crowley felt his chest tighten as Aziraphale reached down to squeeze his hand before he left. It was then, as Crowley looked down at his hand that he saw the silver band on his ring finger. 

Perhaps a half an hour later, once Crowley had emerged from the bathroom, he found relieving himself and a hot*** shower had cleared his head a bit, there were still a million unanswered questions but he was no longer on the brink of a panic attack. 

He tied his hair back into a braid, dressed in loose-fitting pajama pants, a Queen concert t-shirt, and Aziraphale’s tartan dressing gown. He had been pleased to note his snake tattoo was still in the same spot. 

He cleaned up the broken remains of the teacup and left it in the sink for now before he braved the rest of the flat. It was not unlike what he had now dubbed Dream Crowley and Dream Aziraphale were sharing in Dreamland. A mix of their styles, a little digging among papers and a peek in the flat’s office confirmed human Aziraphale to be both an English and Advanced Religions professor. 

Further digging revealed Crowley, human Crowley at least, had been a district attorney who dealt in art fraud who had retired young after making enough money to live just above comfortably. _Very comfortably_. 

He stumbled on the birth certificate and the adoption paper mainly by accident. Dated just about three years ago to the day****, a small picture of a baby. Blond hair and blue eyes. 

_Ten little toesie wosies,_ the nun had cooed when Crowley remembered dropping the baby off with the Satanic nuns. 

Or was that what the nurse had said when she’d brought Adam in, swathed in a red blanket. Crowley has sudden memories of being exhausted and elated all at once. Aziraphale by his side the entire time, holding his hand. 

Aziraphale had picked the name. 

Adam Crowley-Fell.

Adam was perfect and he was their son. 

But, Adam had been the antichrist, the son of Satan. The beginning of the end. Right? His head throbbed and he pushed the thought from his head. 

He left the office in about the same condition as he found it and made his way back to the living room. Art pieces hung on the wall, a photo album was on the coffee table, and pictures lined the mantelpiece over the fireplace. 

There were some of Crowley and Aziraphale. A few candids of Crowley feeding the ducks in St. James. Some had the three of them together, sitting under the trees, one of Aziraphale holding Adam at the zoo. 

Another headache began to build behind his eyes and he reached up to massage his temples in an effort to get rid of it and when that didn’t work, went in search of some sort of pain relievers humans, or he supposed, he would use in cases like this. He took two with a glass of water and laid down on the couch, perhaps he just needed to rest a little more as Aziraphale said. 

**Present**

In a rare instance, not as rare as it could be, Aziraphale is utterly alone in the bookshop. Customers have had the good sense to stay away even if the sign on the door says open, there are no clients with rare books to sell, and Crowley is off in Tadfield visiting the former antichrist under the pretense of ‘making sure he’s still just a normal boy’ when really Crowley had grown rather fond of the Them. 

Of course, Aziraphale hadn’t been worried, Crowley could take care of himself, and in the past year since the Apocalypse that wasn’t, Heaven and Hell had seen fit to leave them alone for the time being. That is to say, a few hours after he was due back, Aziraphale would not deny he kept stealing glances at his cell phone****** every so often. 

It was only after he’d come back from the kitchenette having made his fifth cup of tea, to see Gabriel standing on the other side of his desk that Aziraphale knew something was wrong. His grip tightened on the teacup as he walked over to Gabriel with a tight smile. 

“Gabriel, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon,” Aziraphale said by way of greeting. “Would you like some tea?” 

“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call,” Gabriel replied. “It’s about the demon, Crowley.” 

“Oh?” Aziraphale tried to remain nonchalant.

He ran through a mental list of things that they could have done to wind up on Heaven’s ‘hit list’ over the year since the not apocalypse, and aside from a few things that would make Aziraphale blush, none of them would warrant a visit from upstairs. Or downstairs for that matter. 

“We have him,” Gabriel stated. 

Aziraphale hardly flinched as the tea slipped from his hands and onto the floor. “What the bloody hell do you mean you have him? What have you done to him?” 

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Gabriel held his hands up in a placating gesture. “He was quite literally left in my office. With this.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small card. 

Aziraphale took the card and scanned the words, he reached out to steady himself on the desk as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. 

_We have started what should have been done while you twiddled your thumbs and acted as if nothing happened. The traitors must pay for their part in stopping Armageddon._

It wasn’t signed or dated, but there were smears of what Aziraphale knew to be blood. Crowley’s blood. 

“I’m sure you’re going to deny your involvement in this,” Aziraphale looked at Gabriel. 

“I had no involvement in this,” Gabriel said. “It was decided you and Crowley were more trouble than you were worth, and it was better to leave you be. We agreed to a truce of sorts. It seems there must be a group of rogue angels, who feel that you and Crowley were not punished enough for your crimes and have taken matters into their own hands.” 

Aziraphale nodded. He believed him. 

For now. 

“I...I want to see Crowley,” Aziraphale told him. 

He locked the bookshop with but a thought and then found himself among the vast expanse of Heaven. He hadn’t been back since he’d been discorporated, and he would be lying if he said he missed it. Few spared him a glance, those that did quickly averted their gaze. Aziraphale walked with his head held high as he followed Gabriel. 

“I should warn you,” the archangel said as they climbed the stairs. “His wounds were extensive, whoever went after him used angel weapons, we’ve had to essentially place him in a coma while they heal.” 

There were two angels positioned on either side of the door they stopped in front of. Gabriel dismissed them and Aziraphale thought he’d been prepared for what was on the other side of the door, but it was honestly a miracle Aziraphale didn’t sag to the floor when he saw Crowley. 

He looked so small amongst the white of the room, and the white sheets were drawn over him. Bandages were wrapped around either arm, from his fingers to his biceps. His wings were mangled and drooped towards the floor despite being held up. His feet were wrapped, the bottoms already stained with blood. Aziraphale felt sick to his stomach when he saw the bandages around Crowley’s eyes. 

Aziraphale walked over and sank into the lone chair by Crowley’s bedside and took his hand gently in his. 

“Oh my dear,” he murmured softly and kissed his wrapped knuckles. 

Aziraphale would never tire of watching Crowley sleep, but this, this felt wrong. They should both be home in the flat above the bookshop, or at the flat in Mayfair with Crowley curled up next to him touching whatever part of Aziraphale he could reach. He held Crowley’s hand in his own and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I want you to dream of whatever makes you happy my dear. I will be here the moment you wake up.” 

*It didn’t happen often, as a demon there was really no need for those sorts of bodily functions, that is to say, they did happen occasionally

**Aziraphale called it lovemaking, Crowley called it sex, he couldn’t call it lovemaking because his face would go as red as his hair and he wouldn’t be able to look Aziraphale in the eye for at least a week afterward. 

***He wanted a scalding shower but felt in his current situation that would not be the best idea given that humans were not meant for scalding hot showers less they wanted burns. 

****Crowley had checked and double-checked the calendar pinned on the wall to make sure. 

*****Crowley had managed to convince Aziraphale a cell phone was indeed in order after the events of the not-apocalypse and a very sound argument. An argument in which he’d been dressed in nothing but Aziraphale’s tartan dressing gown and nothing else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the Kudos and Comments!! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this. I'm trying to keep them in character as best as I can and mixing in a little of their book personalities and Series personalities so hopefully, it works out okay. 
> 
> This chapter is strictly from Aziraphale's point of view, the next one will most likely be strictly Crowley's.  
> P.S I did refer to God as She because I am in love with Frances McDormand as God in the show. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Present**

Days could blend together in Heaven when one wasn’t paying attention. One of the pro’s, of course, being an eternity could pass in the blink of an eye and one could be none the wiser. Aziraphale felt the need to point this out to Crowley, even as the demon ‘slept’, and remind him of that night in the back of the book shop after Crowley had delivered the Antichrist.

Crowley didn’t respond, he couldn’t, but it settled his nerves while he waited for Gabriel to bring any information on the angels who could have hurt Crowley. 

Four days had passed when Gabriel approached him once more. Aziraphale knew it was four days because Gabriel kept one of those small calendars where you tear the day off. Aziraphale didn’t feel comfortable leaving Crowley alone, but on their way out they’d passed an angel who looked somewhat familiar going in to tend Crowley’s wounds as they were leaving. 

Two other angels were once again posted on either side of the door. Gabriel sat behind his desk, Aziraphale sat opposite him, hands folded in his lap if only to keep them from tapping nervously against his leg. 

“I take this to mean you have something on the angels?” Aziraphale asked. 

“We have some ideas,” Gabriel answered. “When was the last time you actually saw Crowley? We need to establish a timeline which will help narrow down the search.” 

“Thursday morning,” Aziraphale answered with an automatic smile. “We had breakfast at a little French bistro that opened up not too far from his flat. We were going to meet up for dinner, but he wanted to take care of a few things before he er…” 

“We know you’ve kept in contact with the former antichrist,” Gabriel said as if it was the most obvious thing. “Aziraphale, Crowley never made it to Tadfield.” 

“What...what do you mean he never made it to Tadfield?” Aziraphale asked. “He called me before he left.”

“Michael and a small team of agents went to Tadfield, no one saw anyone that even remotely resembled Crowley, there wasn’t any trace of demonic or angelic influences,” Gabriel told him. 

“You think he was taken from his flat,” Aziraphale stated. 

Gabriel nodded. “Michael is waiting with the angel Amael to check Crowley’s flat. I felt it would be courteous to let you know.” 

“I’d like to go with them. As Crowley is...resting, it’s only right that I go to make sure they respect his home and his privacy,” Aziraphale told Gabriel. 

“Of course,” Gabriel looked slightly reluctant but stood and escorted Aziraphale out of the office to where Michael and the angel Gabriel mentioned were readying to depart. He looked young with short-styled hair almost similar to the style Crowley had been sporting the year of the nopapocolypse. 

“Aziraphale will be accompanying you back to the flat,” Gabriel told Michael. 

“Surely that’s not necessary,” Michael said as she looked at Aziraphale. “Surely you’d much rather stay by the demon’s side and let us handle the work.” 

“With all due respect Michael,” Aziraphale smiled. “You quite literally carried the pitcher of holy water intended to kill Crowley during his trial so you will forgive my trepidations of you, and who I’m sure is a lovely fellow angel, going through Crowley’s flat in his absence.”

Michael looked momentarily surprised but quickly schooled her features and gave a tight-lipped smile. 

“Quite understandable.” 

The angel, Amael, that Aziraphale had never met before kept casting nervous glances between Michael and Aziraphale as he led them down the short hall to Crowley’s flat. He used his keys* to open the door. 

Envelopes littered the floor and he picked them up before any of them could walk all over them and tucked them into his coat to look through later**. 

He was prepared to feel relieved that Gabriel’s assessment that Crowley had been taken from his flat was entirely wrong, but the further into the flat they went, the more destruction they came across. 

His heart broke and he felt sick when he came to Crowley’s plants. The once most beautiful and verdant plants in all of London lay in torn leaves, stems and shreds on the floor. Pots were smashed, dirt was all over the floor. The only survivor was a small succulent that must have been tipped over but was otherwise left alone. 

Aziraphale knelt down among the wreckage and picked up the plant, touched it leaves gently. 

“Oh you poor dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “I’m so so sorry. You know Crowley would never let anything happen to you.” 

Aziraphale turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Amael walk into the indoor garden, and saw the look of barely concealed horror in his eyes. Aziraphale stood up, ignored the dirt on his pants in favor of keeping the small plant tucked in the crook of his arm. 

The plant stilled after Aziraphale gently shushed it when a few leaves began to tremble, and he walked up to the angel. 

“Did he…?” The angel looked from the plants to Aziraphale. 

“Crowley would never harm a plant much less a living being,” Aziraphale told him. “Whoever hurt Crowley, destroyed the most beautiful garden to rival Eden.” 

Now the angel looked at Aziraphale shocked. “Nothing could ever rival that of Eden.” 

“Crowley’s could,” Aziraphale replied. 

He would have to come back and clean up because Crowley could see the damage. Though if the angels had taken Crowley from here, he might not even want to return. Aziraphale would not blame him. 

He found Michael in the living room. One of the doors that swing open and led to the office was cracked down the middle, the windows were blown open and a mess of black and white feathers littered the ground. 

Crowley probably tried to escape by the window and didn't make it in time.

The framed sketch from Da Vinci was crooked but otherwise untouched. Aziraphale itched to take it from the wall and bring it back with him to hang for Crowley.

Aziraphale hadn't realized he'd been shaking until Michael had placed a hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch, tried not to imagine the smug look on Michael's face as she poured the holy water into the bathtub meant for Crowley's demise. 

"We are supposed to be the ones on the side of good," Aziraphale said. "To forgive. This," he gestured to the room with his free hand. To the destruction and air that stunk of self-righteousness. "Whoever claims this, hurting Crowley, destroying perhaps any sense of faith he may have still held, this was done to make us pay, to do it in Her name." Aziraphale took a shuddering breath as he drew himself to his full height, and looked at Michael square in the eye. "Will wish they had never touched a hair on Crowley's head." 

Aziraphale would like to say that he walked out of the flat with his head held high. The plant cradled in his arms. The shocked faces of Michael and Amael behind him. 

That is to say, he _did_ walk out of the flat with his head held high with plant in his arms as he stepped into the street, made his way to the Bentley, climbed into the leather seats, shut the door, and sobbed. 

Full body, breath catching, heaving sobs. They made his head throb and his chest hurt. 

Once Aziraphale managed to calm down enough to stop shaking and make himself more presentable. He noticed Crowley's phone resting on the seat face down. He picked it up and found it still turned on. There were also a few missed calls. He recognized the first number as Adam's. They both had his number in case the boy or his friends had any questions or needed help. 

They found they lacked in terms of history, despite being over six thousand years old, but they made up for it in other ways. He listened to the message, pushed back the tears that threatened to spill over again as Adam's disappointed voice went on about how they were all so sad that Crowley had to cancel and that the demon owed them ice cream. 

Aziraphale has to listen to the second voicemail twice. Once because he couldn't understand it at first, having spoken English for so long, the part of his brain that still worked in old Enochian needed to wake up. 

The voice on the other side was his own. It made Aziraphale sick to his stomach to know the angels had tricked Crowley with simple imitation. He wondered if one of them had taken his shape in some form of cruel torture. 

He ended the voicemail to sick to go on and set the phone next to him on the seat. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and looked at the succulent leaning back in the seat. 

"Right then, err, Paul," he decided to name it. He reached over and pulled the seat belt over it to keep it from falling over. "I must apologize in advance because I've never actually driven*** without Crowley present, but we're going to be taking a little trip to Tadfield." He put on his own seatbelt, went through the mental list Crowley had taught him and started the Bentley. 

It purred to life and Queen played softly in the background as Aziraphale put the car into drive and peeled away from the curb. 

*Crowley had given Aziraphale a set after the nopapocolypse to further cement the next milestone of their relationship. Aziraphale always used his key as opposed to using a miracle the door. That was Crowley’s thing. 

**Crowley never sorted his mail but Aziraphale quite enjoyed it. Perhaps Warlock had written them and he could read the letter to Crowley later

***Crowley had taught Aziraphale to drive, though the Bently was so intuned to both Crowley and Aziraphale at this point it pretty much drove itself


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there were only a few little extra notes, I've added them here because they're mostly in the beginning, I don't know how to make the return to text links but if anyone has any insight feel free to drop a line! 
> 
> This chapter is holey from Crowley's point of view, shorter than I intended by I didn't want it to drag on. Thanks for all the warm comments and kudos!
> 
> *Nothing over the top or fancy, just a small garden wedding. In the pictures both their eyes were red and puffy from happy tears. 
> 
> **Not a first edition, and no personal notes inside
> 
> ***Botox is known to help relieve migraines,

**Crowley**

Crowley felt as if he was going mad. He'd been living this alternate life? Dream? He wasn't sure what to call it, for nearly a week now. Or what might have been a week in this alternate life or dream. He’s used to dreaming, but he doesn’t believe he could have come up with something like this if he’d planned it right before falling asleep. 

He was thirty-nine, Aziraphale just shy of forty-two. They’d met in late in primary school, began dating just after Aziraphale started year 11. Dated long distance for a few years after Aziraphale went to college and Crowley finished secondary and began college then transferred during his last few years. 

They got married shortly after graduation* and adopted Adam two years into the marriage, Crowley later took early retirement to be a stay at home father to Adam and he hadn’t regretted it. 

Anytime Crowley tried to deviate from whatever life this was, focus too much on the details, or begin to think about their occult and ethereal counterparts he'd get throbbing migraines that made him curl up in their bed with the sheets pulled over his head and the curtains were drawn tight to block out the light.

He had one now, all because he'd thought about The Them and how they fit into this reality since he and Aziraphale were Adam's parents now. A semi fleeting thought had caused him to slink back to their bedroom. 

Aziraphale had brought him painkillers and tea, kissed his forehead and left to take Adam to preschool despite his protests of wanting to stay home. 

The second time he'd gotten a migraine, Adam had sunk into the room and given Crowley a few of his stuffed toys to feel better, then, later on, slept in bed with him and Aziraphale under the excuse his stuffed dog, Dog, couldn't sleep without him. 

Crowley was brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of fingers in his hair, occasionally massaging his scalp gently. He peeked out of the covers and saw Aziraphale reclining in bed next to him with an Oscar Wilde novel**. 

"Why aren't you at work?" Crowley sat up a bit more so his head was fully on the pillow. 

"My religion classes are preparing for an exam on Monday so I'm sure they'll appreciate the extra study time, as for my lit classes, I've assigned an extra chapter and they should be preparing for a quiz," Aziraphale answered.

He marked his place in his book and set it on the nightstand. He continued to comb his fingers through his hair and massage his scalp gently. 

"I was worried about you, that last time you had migraines this bad were before you retired. Though it's only been four days, maybe I should schedule an appointment with the doctor, see if we should try those Botox injections*** again. They seemed to work before." 

_ Botox?  _ Crowley thought curious. "I think it's just the change in weather," Crowley replied. 

"Maybe," Aziraphale didn't seem to agree but he didn't push the matter. 

Crowley leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. "What else did you do when I got migraines this bad?" 

"Surely you remember," Aziraphale answered. 

"I like it when you remind me," Crowley replied. "Could lisssten to you talk for agesss." 

He had been pleasantly surprised at how happy he was to know he still carried the one snake-like quality. It mainly came out when he was nearing exhaustion or his body felt like jelly. (Or drunk. But he hasn't gotten drunk in this reality yet.) 

Particularly when Aziraphale was playing with his hair. 

"I remember, when they first started to get really bad, we lived in that horrid little flat in Soho. Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell lived in the flats above us," Aziraphale started. 

"It wassn't that bad," Crowley mused. 

Aziraphale made a sound that seemed like disagreement but kept going. 

"I suppose it'd been building all day, what with Hastur and Ligur pestering you while you were preparing for a case, not to mention Mr. Shadwell going on upstairs about witches and nipples and the Jezebel, err Madam Tracy and her ah, gentlemen callers...you know, I think that was the day we had that strange power outage, lost your case notes and everything." 

Crowley couldn't imagine what that must have been like, except he  _ could.  _ The tiny cramped flat beneath Madam Tracy and Shadwell. The peeling wallpaper they tried to stick back up with pieces of tape. 

Books and papers were strewn all over the place. Polaroids of art pieces tacked to the wall with notes scribbled in Crowley's handwriting. 

The tea kettle that was two centuries too old because an electronic teapot just didn't get hot enough for a decent cup of tea. 

The mishmash of styles. Tartan blankets were thrown over a worn white leather couch. A wooden coffee table pushed against a wall with a newish flatscreen tv. 

The bedroom with one closet and one dresser with no room for much else because of Crowley's insistent need for a bed big enough to sprawl in and simultaneously curl around Aziraphale until they fused together. 

"You drew me a bath," Crowley smiled a little. "With a rubber duck." 

"And you insisted I get in with you," Aziraphale smiled back. "I still can't believe how we managed to fit. Suppose we wouldn't be able to now, well I suppose I wouldn't be able to fit now. You have an uncanny knack for squeezing into small spaces." 

"You're perfect," Crowley said firmy and pulled one arm from beneath the sheets to wrap around Aziraphale's middle. 

Aziraphale didn’t say anything but Crowley knew he was blushing. 

“Draw me a bath?” Crowley said after another lull in the conversation. 

“You’ll have to let go of me for that,” Aziraphale chuckled. 

Crowley reluctantly let go of him and he watched Aziraphale get out of bed and walk into the adjoining bathroom. After a couple of minutes, he half wiggled half-rolled out of bed with one of the sheets wrapped around him and went into the bathroom. 

Aziraphale had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and was testing the temperature of the water. Crowley winced a little as his head started to throb again and must’ve made some kind of noise because Aziraphale turned to look at him and his expression softened. 

“I’m going to get you a cold compress while you get settled,” he told him. 

Crowley left the sheet on the bathroom floor and stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a small pile. The water  _ was _ just the way he liked it and he sank into it until his limbs tingled from the heat and his chin just barely touched the surface of the water. 

He did sit up when Aziraphale returned with a cold compress. Aziraphale folded up a towel and placed it on the back edge of the tub for Crowley to lean back on and put the cold compress over his eyes. 

Aziraphale must have sat on the marble edge around the bathtub because Crowley felt his fingers in his hair once more. The water and compress helped to alleviate his migraine, but it was really Aziraphale finger-combing his hair that helped the most. 

Once the water had turned lukewarm and he felt a bit pruny, he got out and dried off then changed into a pair of Aziraphale’s worn tartan pajama pants and a worn Queen t-shirt. He left hi6yts hair in a messy bun and they both went back to bed. 

“Are you sure it’s not something more serious?” Aziraphale asked when he came back with tea. 

“I don’t know,” Crowley admitted. “Maybe it’s just stress because Adam’s started preschool or something…” He stared down at his teacup. “The simplest thing sets it off and some mornings, I wake up and I think...well I don’t know what I think.” 

He leaned his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I think I’m going mad.” 

“Perhaps it’s just stress, like you said,” Aziraphale stroked his hand. “But, if you like, the school has hired a new psychiatrist, I could see if she’d be willing to talk to you if you like? Figure out the root cause?” 

“Do you think it might help?” Crowley asked. 

He’d seen a psychiatrist a few times, or maybe he’d seen a psychiatrist a few times, he had somewhat blurred memories of seeing them in college and seeing them when psychiatry was in its infancy. It was a fuzzy memory at best, like when you can’t get a clear picture on the TV.psych

“It can’t hurt, and there’s something about her that’s just...comforting,” Aziraphale tried to explain. “I’ll speak with her and see if she’d be willing to talk to you.” 

Maybe talking to someone was just what he needed. If he got his mind, and his thoughts all sorted out, then maybe these migraines would go away. 

*Nothing over the top or fancy, just a small garden wedding. In the pictures both their eyes were red and puffy from happy tears. 

**Not a first edition, and no personal notes inside

***Botox is known to help relieve migraines, 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this! I meant to post this sooner but I got busy with getting ready for a new job. But as a plus I've got two chapters for ya!

Aziraphale always enjoyed the ride out to Tadfield. For one the scenery was beautiful, especially in the fall when the leaves turned color. Two, it was nice to get out of the city every now and again, he'd been thinking about possibly moving out altogether, not to Tadfield, but maybe something not too far off. It wouldn't do to be so far away from his "Godson" now would it. Thirdly, he always enjoyed how relaxed Crowley seemed to be around the children. 

Despite a year passing with no hint to any lingering effects of being the Antichrist, Adam was waiting outside the gate of his house, Dog loyally by his side, when Aziraphale put the car in park and got out. He brought the plant along with him for moral support. 

“Mum and dad will be sad they missed you,” Adam said by way of greeting. “Is Crowley not with you?”

“I’m afraid not...he’s well, he’s the reason I’m here,” Aziraphale replied. 

Adam nodded and led Aziraphale inside. He wasn’t sure if should have been surprised or not to see Anathema sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. 

“Hello my dear,” Aziraphale smiled a bit and set the plant on the table. 

“I thought maybe Anathema could help make Crowley feel better since she’s an occultist and all,” Adam said. 

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, I never focused too much on the healing side, mostly just how to find and avert the apocalypse by stopping the antichrist,” Anathema replied as Aziraphale sat down. “Would you like some tea? Adam made it himself.” 

“Tea would be lovely,” Aziraphale nodded. “And perhaps a little water for Paul here, he’s had quite the day.” 

Two sets of eyes blinked at him. He motioned to the potted plant. “The last of Crowley’s once beautiful garden. I’ve named him Paul…” He sighed and found himself launching into the full tale of all that had happened in the last week. 

Not the edited version that was appropriate for twelve-year-old ears, but it felt good to be around the ones he trusted and cared for, by the end of it he had to dab his eyes with his handkerchief and his tea had been doused with something a little stronger courtesy of Anathema. 

“I know it’s a long shot, but I had hoped that...well, maybe you might have been able to sense anything different, or if you’ve seen anyone who didn’t...fit in, either in the last week or a few days before Crowley was supposed to come see you,” Aziraphale finished. “Either of you.” 

“Newt and I were in London visiting his mother that weekend, I did text Crowley to see if he knew any good bars that we could go to while we were there, it looked like he saw the message but just didn’t respond,” Anathema told him. 

“Pepper said some weird people had asked her mum how to get to London,” Adam said. “Couldn’t remember what they looked like though...but she did remember that one of them had marks on their face. Something silvery.”

“Could be an angel,” Aziraphale sighed and sipped his tea. "I just don't understand why now, and their note said they would be punishing both of us...why haven't they come for me yet?" 

"Maybe this is their way of punishing you," Adam replied. "Like when my dad takes away my games or says I can't go play with Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale because I've done something bad." 

"That actually makes sense," Anathema agreed. "It's been established that they had to be watching you, otherwise they wouldn't have known it'd be better to grab Crowley by himself because let's be honest, Crowley can fight, but he doesn't have the proper training the way you do." 

Aziraphale had to agree with her on that point. Despite both having been knights for a time, Aziraphale can't actually remember Crowley ever really fighting anyone with a sword. Or any kind of weapon at any point in time really. 

"And if it's at his flat, he's not really expecting it because it's home, and he's comfortable," she continued. "Then again maybe they're underestimating you, they think you'll spend all your time worrying about Crowley and sitting by his beside or holed up in the bookshop, that you won't be on your game and you'll be an easy target." 

"Well they will be sorely mistaken," Aziraphale replied. "And that still doesn't explain why now."

"Element of surprise?" Adam offered. 

Anathema nodded. "You're not looking over your shoulder anymore." 

They had a point. He and Crowley had grown comfortable if he was being honest, they had stopped looking over their shoulders not two weeks after their respective trials happy to go on enjoying earth. Maybe if they'd thought more about the what-ifs, this wouldn't have happened. 

Aziraphale pushed the doubt from his head, he wasn't going to think like that when Crowley was in Heaven healing. He had to be strong for the both of them right now. 

"You've both been so helpful," Aziraphale said at last. "Anathema would it be possible to borrow your driveway and your living room? I want to check up on Crowley before I head back to his flat to see if there's anything else I might have missed." 

"I'll ride back with you," she told him 

Adam walked them both to the door and grabbed Aziraphale's sleeve before he stepped outside. 

"You're going to find who did this right?" He asked. "Because well, they'll be sad if Crowley doesn't come around again…"

Aziraphale smiled softly and ruffled his hair gently. "I promise. I'm sure Crowley would be very happy to hear you and your friends creating a little mischief in his name when he feels better hmm? But not too much, I don't want you all to get in trouble again." 

Adam nodded and Aziraphale went to meet Anathema at the car. She had Paul in one arm as Aziraphale unlocked the doors, but stared at him in assessing silence. 

"What?" Aziraphale glanced over at her as he drove to the cottage. 

"It's...you're pulsing with energy," she answered. "I could always tell, with you and Crowley, but now I can actually kinda feel it. It's strong…" 

"I do not enjoy fighting in any capacity," Aziraphale said as he pulled into the driveway of Jessamine cottage, "but I fear that this may be a fight I can not avoid." And that was all he said on the matter. 

Anathema watched as he drew the teleportation portal on the floor of her living room and power it up.

"Now do be careful of this, I will power it off once I get up to heaven but it can be a little techy sometimes. Perhaps put a rug over it just in case," Aziraphale told her. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Anathema asked. 

"Take care of yourself, and look out for Adam, I'm afraid of what he might try to do to help," Aziraphale told her. 

He held Paul securely in his arms and took a deep breath as he stepped into the portal. He felt tingly as he stepped out into Heaven. Not discorporated thank goodness. 

Paul looked unharmed, perhaps a little stunned, could plants look stunned? Aziraphale wondered as he began to make his way to Crowley's room. 

He recognized Amael sitting in a chair next to the door with his eyes closed and head bowed with his hand folded in his lap. His lips working and it wasn't until Aziraphale stepped closer that he realized the angel was praying. 

For who, Aziraphale couldn't be sure. He opened his eyes and looked up as Aziraphale approached. 

"I hope you don't mind, I was saying a prayer for the de-, Crowley, so that God might show him some mercy and perhaps help him to heal." 

"You are the angel Amael, right?" Aziraphale asked. "You were at his flat to help look for any insight in the attack." 

"That is correct, yes," he nodded. "If I may be so bold, I couldn't help but notice things between you and the archangels are a bit...tense." 

"Well, I did have a hand in averting the Apocalypse," Aziraphale replied. "And I befriended a demon…"  _ Even fell in love with said demon. _

Aziraphale opened the door to Crowley's room and set the plant on the bedside table. It seemed to automatically gravitate towards the demon in the subtle lean of it leaves. 

Even if his plants were terrified there was some amount of love there. 

Aziraphale was pleased to see fresh bandages. Especially on Crowley's feet. He wished he could see how his eyes were fairing but knew better than to interfere with whoever was in charge of his care. 

He noticed Amael standing in the doorway. 

"It's alright," Aziraphale motioned to the chair he usually used. "If you want to come in." 

Amael stepped into the room and took the empty seat while Aziraphale began to finger comb Crowley's hair. His hands itched to work on Crowley's wings, to smooth out the feathers but Heaven wasn't the place for that. 

"I do not understand," Amael said. "How can you...fraternize with the enemy? With a demon?" 

"I suppose, after six thousand years of being on Earth together, it just happened," Aziraphale answered. "For all we knew, until recently, we were the only ones of our respective kinds and while it wasn't hard to stay out of each other's way, we grew to understand each other...we really aren't all that different if you think about it." 

He gently twisted Crowley's hair into a simple braid and let his fingers linger on Crowley's cheek. He remembered the letter from Warlock in his coat and propped it up against Paul's pot to read later and looked at Amael. 

"I was going to go back to Crowley's flat and look around a bit more before I went to check on my bookshop. Would you like to accompany me?" He asked the angel. 

If Amael was surprised he did his best not to show it and gave a small nod. 

Aziraphale thought about going back to Anathema's and taking the Bentley but Aziraphale thought better of it. Amael left the room first to either let Michael and Gabriel know where they'd be going or simply to give Aziraphale some privacy. 

Aziraphale leaned down and kissed Crowley's forehead, assured the plant that he was safe and would return soon before he went to join Amael. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've finally gotten to the reason behind the M rating. I've never done something like before (I have written smut) but not in this way, I wanted to try something in which Crowley was remembering his first time as they were angel and demon while having his first time in this life as a human. The bold italics is his remembering and the regular text is what's currently happening. Hopefully, it's not too confusing. If it is I'll rework it so it's less. 
> 
> As always enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

Date nights, Crowley decided, were one of the human’s better ideas. Date nights with Aziraphale were even better. It was apparently the first date night they’d had in a while and they were going to enjoy it. 

Adam was spending the night with the sitter, Crowley had picked up a few bottles of wine after he’d dropped him off, Aziraphale was in charge of dinner, and both were delighted to find that their TV was still capable of getting channel’s other than the ones catered towards children. 

Currently, they were each drinking from their glasses while whatever Aziraphale was cooking on the stove simmered. 

“Where ever did you find this vintage?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Believe it or not it was in the sale bin of Tesco’s,” Crowley answered as he poured them each a little more. “Shame we didn’t bring a few more bottles of that Chateauneuf du Pape, back with us when we went on that wine tasting trip in France.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Aziraphale pouted a little. “We still have that lackluster red in the wine cooler…”

He turned his attention back to the stove and Crowley tried to peer over his shoulder. Aziraphale shooed him away and Crowley sat at the counter resting his chin on his palm. He was rather content to just watch Aziraphale move about the kitchen. 

It made him think of his kitchen and how it looked like something out of a magazine as opposed to this one which was warm, lived in, and homier. 

Aziraphale was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to work. He’d hung his blazer and coat up when he’d gotten home, but had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows showing off his forearms. 

“You know my dear,” Aziraphale tried to sound casual as he glanced at Crowley while he diced tomatoes. “I’ll be starting my unit on Shakespeare next week.” 

“Oh,” Crowley picked up his glass of wine. 

“At the end, I was going to have them perform a scene from whichever of his works they enjoyed, and I thought you might be up for doing a reading yourself,” Aziraphale finished. “Maybe a scene from Hamlet? Or perhaps the Tempest? I still get chills whenever I remember your Hamlet.” 

“What’s in it for me?” Crowley asked. 

“My eternal gratitude and thanks?” Aziraphale offered. “And I will take over the next parent-teacher meeting with Adam’s preschool.” 

“Throw in PTA meetings when he gets to elementary school, and I will do a scene from Hamlet,” Crowley picked up a piece of tomato and popped it in his mouth. 

“Done,” Aziraphale collected a handful of tomatoes and dropped them in the pan on the stove. “What? What’s with the face?” 

Crowley just grinned and sipped his wine. “I would’ve done it just for your eternal gratitude and thanks.” 

Aziraphale tossed a piece of tomato at him and Crowley ducked to avoid being hit. “Why don’t you go find us a movie hmm?” 

Crowley grinned as he carried their glasses to the living room and set them on the coffee table before he picked up the remote and began to flip through the channels. 

“The Sound of-” 

“Don’t you dare,” Aziraphale called from the kitchen. 

Crowley chuckled and sipped his wine until he settled on some cliche rom-com with a predictable plot, actors whose name one can never remember until three days later, and a decent playlist. 

“Dinner is served,” Aziraphale smiled as he walked into the living room with two plates, and the bottle of wine tucked under one arm. 

He set the plates on the coffee table before he went back to the kitchen and returned with a few slices of garlic bread and a small bowl of parmesan to top the pasta. 

“Pasta Pomodoro and bread with fresh garlic,” Aziraphale said as he sat down. “It’s no Ritz, but I’m very confident that it’s a close second...What are we watching?” 

“No idea,” Crowley answered as he speared some pasta on his fork. “I think it’s an American thing.”

The American thing turned about to be a movie called _Midnight in Paris,_ with an actor that had a striking resemblance to Aziraphale, about a man who seemed to go back in time each night and started to become dissatisfied with his present. 

“Oddly compelling,” Aziraphale said as the credits began to play.

Their dishes were stacked on top of each other on the coffee table, the second bottle of wine was about two-thirds of the way empty, and Crowley was very comfortable practically draped over Aziraphale. Aziraphale had his arm around Crowley and was lightly running his fingers over the exposed skin of his hip. 

Crowley shivered a little and finished off his glass of wine before he set it next to Aziraphale's on the coffee table. He raised an eyebrow when he caught him staring. 

"What?" Crowley asked. 

"I'd very much like to kiss you, "Aziraphale answered. 

"Then kiss me," Crowley said as if it were the most obvious response. 

"I'd like to do more than kiss you…."Aziraphale seemed like he wanted to say more but got the look on his face that meant he was going to say something that might upset Crowley. 

Crowley rearranged himself so instead of being draped over Aziraphale, he was astride the man's lap. 

"It seems lately you aren't all that interested…" Aziraphale continued. 

He still stroked the skin at Crowley's hip and rest the other on his thigh. 

Crowley felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. He wasn't blind to Aziraphale's gazes or attempts at minor seduction when they were alone. Crowley was still, if not more, attracted to this Aziraphale. He was bolder without the assumption the agents of heaven were watching his every move and it did excite Crowley. 

In all honesty, he was nervous. For all intents and purposes, this was a life he lived but didn’t actively participate in. But he couldn't say that out loud without causing concern. And Aziraphale already looked a bit crestfallen. 

"The headaches," Crowley said instead. "I doubt I'd be any good for you if I just laid there." He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and curled his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “But, I’m interested now.” 

“You’re sure?” Aziraphale asked. “Because if you’re not, I understand.” 

“Angel, we’re two adults, sans children, I am _very_ interested,” Crowley looked at Aziraphale through his lashes. 

The answer seemed to satisfy Aziraphale because the next moment they were kissing and Crowley felt his toes curl. Aziraphale had to have been blessed with a natural talent for kissing because kissing his angel was ecstasy. It didn’t matter the kind of kiss they shared, from a chaste kiss to breathless ones, they always left Crowley weak in the knees. 

Crowley shivered as Aziraphale slipped a hand under his shirt and stroked the smooth skin of his hip. Aziraphale pulled back just enough to brush their lips together and smile at Crowley. 

“Bedroom?” He asked softly. 

Crowley nodded and, after disentangling themselves, stood on shaky legs to make their way to the bedroom. It felt oddly reminiscent of their first time, and Crowley stumbled over his own feet. Aziraphale caught him around the waist with a small smile. 

**_“Seems we’ve had a little too much to drink my dear if we’re to continue...maybe we should sober up a bit…” Aziraphale’s cheeks are flushed and his breath smells like the wine they’d been drinking since they got back from the Ritz._ **

Crowley blinked and cracked a small smile. “Like our wedding night right? We had so much wine we were practically stumbling to bed.” 

“What do you mean we?” Aziraphale smiled back and Crowley let out a gasp as Aziraphale picked him up. “I carried you over the threshold and to bed...and I had way more to drink than you.” 

“Going for a repeat performance are we,” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck as he was carried the rest of the way to their room. 

**_“I want to carry you,” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s hand._ **

**_“What? Like over the threshold?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a silly human thing?”_ **

**_“Indulge me,” Aziraphale stroked his hand._ **

**_“When haven’t I?” Crowley sighed with a smile and stepped closer to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. “Carry me then, but be warned, I’ll get spoiled.”_ **

**_“Then I’ll spoil you for the rest of our days,” Aziraphale promised as he picked him up._ **

Crowley moaned softly as Aziraphale once again slipped his hands under Crowley’s shirt this time skimming his fingers over his stomach and up his chest as Crowley straddled him on the bed. 

“You’re positively gorgeous,” Aziraphale sighed as Crowley pulled off his shirt and let it fall on the floor. “How’d I get so lucky?” 

“I should be asking that,” Crowley reached down and cupped Aziraphale’s face. “You’re too good for me angel.” 

“You always say that,” Aziraphale sighed and leaned up to kiss him. 

“It’s cause I’m right,” Crowley reached down and started to tug at Aziraphale’s sweater. It landed on the floor with Crowley’s shirt with a soft thump and Crowley stared at Aziraphale’s button-down. 

“Why do you insist on so many layers?” Crowley reached for the buttons. 

“Allow me,” Aziraphale grinned pleased and pulled on either side of the shirt and it opened with a pop. 

“Why angel,” Crowley pretended to be scandalized, “snap buttons? Did you plan on this happening?” 

“I was feeling very confident about tonight yes,” Aziraphale said as he shrugged out of the shirt and dropped it on the floor. 

**_“Are you sure about this?” Crowley looked up at Aziraphale as he undid each button. “Because we can stop if you’re not sure.”_ **

**_“I’ve never been more sure,” Aziraphale reached up and cupped his cheek. “And are you quite sure?”_ **

**_“God yes.” Crowley hadn’t realized his hands had been shaking until Aziraphale took hold of them with his free hand._ **

**_“Allow me, my dear.”_ **

It took a little more coordination to get their pants off but after a couple of minutes, Crowley was sprawled between Aziraphale's legs, mouthing at the flesh of his thighs, while Aziraphale had fisted Crowley's hair. 

"Come here," Aziraphale panted a little and Crowley crawled back up his body out of curiosity as Aziraphale's hand trailed from his hair to cup his cheek and pulled him into a kiss. 

He let his own hand wander back down and slip beneath the waistband of Aziraphale's boxers and wrap around his length. Thick and heavy in his hand. 

Aziraphale gasped and thrust up as he sucked a mark Crowley's neck. 

"If you don't stop, I won't last," Aziraphale warned and bit his lip. 

"Isn't that the point?" Crowley mused. 

"Not tonight," Aziraphale looked at him. "Tonight I want to finish inside you ... _with_ you," 

Crowley moaned at the thought and pressed their foreheads together. 

"Christ, angel, you've got to warn me when you say things like that," he breathed. 

Aziraphale smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. "On your back." 

Crowley gave him one last stroke and did as told. He pulled off his boxers and watched Aziraphale do the same as he searched for the lubricant, then spread his legs invitingly. 

"Beautiful," Aziraphale murmured. 

**_"Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous," Aziraphale murmured as he stroked the back of Crowley's thigh._ **

**_"Sssh….shhhut up," Crowley half panted half gasped and pushed back against Aziraphale's fingers._ **

**_"Oh but you," Aziraphale said as he thrust three fingers. "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."_ **

**_Crowley had his face buried into one of the pillows but he could picture Aziraphale behind him with love and adoration in those blue eyes._ **

**_He shivered when be felt Aziraphale's fingers skimming up and down his back, lightly prodding at the spots his wings would extend as if trying to coax them out. And then they were gone and Crowley felt achingly empty._ **

**_"I want to see you," Aziraphale leaned over him to kiss his shoulder blade. "Please Crowley."_ **

**_And who was Crowley to deny him? He rolled over onto his back and felt his chest clench at the sight before him. Aziraphale was flushed from head to toe, his curls were plastered to his forehead and smiling as he looked at Crowley with such pure love._ **

**_"Angel," Crowley reached out to touch him and Aziraphale caught his hand and kissed his knuckles._ **

**_"I'm here my love. My darling, my serpent."_ **

"Angel ...please, I need you," Crowley half moaned half begged. 

"Soon my love," Aziraphale promised as he thrust his fingers. 

"Don't care if it hurts, what to feel it, want to feel you," Crowley didn't care if he sounded like he was begging. "A... Aziraphale please." 

Crowley watched through hazy eyes as Aziraphale carefully withdrew his fingers, slicked himself up with lube and pressed against him. Crowley hissed at the feeling, the burn as Aziraphale pushed inside him and didn't stop until he brushed the bundle of nerves that made Crowley see stars. 

He leaned over Crowley to look down at him, curls disheveled, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing as if there was fire behind the. 

"Move," Crowley tried to urge him on but Aziraphale beat him to the punch, he pulled out halfway and thrust back in causing Crowley to cry out in surprise and pleasure. 

He pulled Aziraphale down for a bruising kiss, he dug his fingers into his back as Aziraphale set a steady pace, that alternated between dragging over the nerves and just teasing him.

**_Crowley dug his fingers into the feathers of Aziraphale's wings as the angel thrust up into him. They'd unfurled at some point, knocking over a lamp on the bedside table that neither of them paid attention to._ **

**_Aziraphale brushed Crowely's hair back from his face and kissed his nose, his forehead, each of his eyelids and cheeks before he kissed his lips. If he felt Crowely's fangs accidentally bite him he didn't say._ **

**_Just moaned at the feeling of their connected bodies._ **

"Fa...faster," Crowley panted and reached down with one hand to squeeze Aziraphale's ass while the other felt its way around the spot his wings would be if he had any. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses to Aziraphale's shoulder and sucked a dark mark into his neck. Aziraphale gripped his hip with one hand hard enough to bruise, the other braced on the bed for balance as he picked up speed. 

He spoke in a steady mantra of 'i love you's', 'Oh Crowley, my dear, my love,' and the odd swear. 

Crowley spoke in a steady mantra of 'Aziraphale,' and 'my angel'. 

**_Crowley burned from where each of Aziraphale's hands touched him. One holding his hip, the other in the middle of his back between his wings. The skin felt tight and he could feel them flexing beneath his skin, twitching and restless._ **

**_"It's alright my dear," Aziraphale panted into his ear. He kissed Crowley's temple. "I've got you…let go."_ **

**_Crowley came as his wings extend in a snap, they pushed against Aziraphale that had been wrapped around them so they were a tangle of white and black. They bent in awkward angles and it hurt in the most beautiful way possible._ **

Crowley came with Aziraphale's name on his lips. With Aziraphale's fingers buried in his hair to the root. With Aziraphale buried deep inside of him, the feeling of Aziraphale's release warming him from the inside out. 

"Crowley, sweetheart, you're crying." 

**_Aziraphale burned inside him and around him. His fingers wiping Crowley's eyes and stroking his eyes._ **

Crowley came with tears in his eyes. 

"It's alright," Crowley's voice sounded thick. "I'm good, I'm amazing...I'm happy." 

**_"Stay," Crowley tightened his grip. "Don't...not just yet. Please." He buried his face in Aziraphale's neck and breathed in deeply_ **

Aziraphale wiped his eyes and ran his thumb over Crowley's trembling lower lip. 

"I've sometimes thought of your tears as my own private benediction," he whispered as he stroked Crowely's cheek. 

"Some might think of that as blasphemy," Crowley whispered back. 

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn," Aziraphale told him as he leaned in for a kiss. Crowley, felt a few more tears roll down his cheeks and met him halfway. 

**_Crowley briefly woke at some point between twilight and sunrise to Aziraphale's breath tickling the back of his neck, an arm wrapped securely around his waist and their legs tangled together. He felt the arm tighten around him as he rolled over to face Aziraphale and tucked his head against his shoulder._ **

**_"I love you, angel," Crowley murmured._ **

**_Aziraphale smiled and slipped a leg between Crowley's effectively pulling him closer._ **

**_"I love you too my dear," he replied._ **

* * *

In a white room, with angels posted at the door, and a plant on a small bedside table stacked with carefully worn books, a figure in white watched silently as a tear rolled down an unconscious demons cheek.


	6. CHAPTER 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes a tiny deviation from what I originally planned but then it led to a nice segway~  
> I've got one or two more surprises up my sleeve before we get to the end and I hope you like them!  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! Next one should be up later today or tomorrow. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**CHAPTER 6**

“I just don’t understand it,” Aziraphale sighed as he set down two cups of tea on the desk. “We went over every inch of that flat and nothing turned up…” 

“Whoever hurt Crowley knew not to leave much evidence behind,” Amael said thoughtfully. He reached for one of the cups and blew on it to cool it down before he took a small sip. 

“I suspect you might be right,” Aziraphale picked up his own cup. “I just can’t help but feel I’m letting him down somehow.” 

Amael held his cup in his lap and toed the carpet with his foot. “Brother Aziraphale...I...well there is something I think you should know…” He looked up a bit nervous. 

“What is it?” Aziraphale moved to sit next to him. “You can tell me.” 

“I, well I overheard the Archangels Gabriel and Michael speaking to the Quartermaster about some angelic weapons that had been taken from the armory, and well Crowley had been attacked with angelic weapons…” Amael trailed off. “They didn’t tell you?” 

“No...they didn’t mention that at all,” Aziraphale answered. “Are you sure you heard correctly? Surely whoever took the weapons signed them out with the quartermaster.” 

“There was no record...from what I overheard,” Amael replied. 

“I’m sure there is a perfectly good reason as to why they haven’t said anything,” Aziraphale said more to himself than Amael. “Are you hungry?” 

“Hungry?” Amael asked. 

“Oh...forgive me,” Aziraphale smiled a bit. “I forget that many angels don’t actually participate in the various functions that humanity enjoys.”

“I wouldn’t mind...eating, or trying the food as it were,” Amael replied. “That is if you don’t mind the company.” 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mind the company,” Aziraphale smiled a bit more. “We’ll start simple. The Balthazar I think. Crowley found it a couple of years ago, they have a rack of lamb that is simply to die for.” 

Amael blinked a little concerned. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale chuckled and reached over to pat his hand. “Figure of speech my dear. Just something the humans came up with. Stick around here long enough and you’ll pick up on it.” He stood up and took their cups to the small kitchen and set them in the sink to take care of later. 

“We can walk through St. James Park on our way,” Aziraphale told him as he led him to the door. 

They walked in silence for a while, Amael stood off to the side while he watched Aziraphale stop to feed the ducks from a small bag he hadn’t had when they left the bookstore. It felt odd to do it without Crowley by his side. 

“Are you alright?” Amael asked once they’d made it to the restaurant. “You seemed...despondent when you were feeding the ducks.” 

“There’s this saying that people have sometimes, when they’ve lost a loved one, or are no longer involved with something, ‘everything reminds them of that person’...They don’t always mean it in the literal sense, but well, I’m afraid in my case it’s quite true. I never really gave much thought to my relationship with Crowley until Armageddon was upon us...and I never realized how much of our lives revolve around each other until there was a Crowley sized hole in mine.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Amael held out his handkerchief.

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale took the handkerchief with a small smile of thanks and dabbed his eyes. “Goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever been brought to tears this much since the renaissance.” 

He miracled the handkerchief clean and handed it back as the waiter approached. Amael stared at the menu with confusion so Aziraphale ordered for the both of them. 

They’d start with a selection of bread, with escargot and the garlic prawns. Aziraphale ordered the lobster spaghetti and a Nicoise salad for himself. For Amael, in an effort to keep is simple he ordered the baked aubergine and roast cod. For drinks, he stuck with a simple red, and a glass of water. 

“Your relationship with Crowley…” Amael seemed hesitant to bring it up as he toyed with his glass. “It is more than simple, fraternization isn’t it?”

“I...I love him,” Aziraphale answered. 

“We are angels,” Amael replied. “We love all of God’s creations.” 

“Yes, and I couldn’t agree more with you on that front, but you see, I _love_ him. In both the general sense, but also the,” he grasped his glass of wine, “in the biblical sense as well.” 

Amael eyes widened at the softly uttered statement, and an array of various emotions that played on his face before it settled on a mixed combination shock, awe and some degree of neutrality. 

“You and...really?” he asked. 

Aziraphale nodded. “I’ve always felt some deal of emotion for him, it wasn’t until after the nopapocolypse that I realized my feelings for him were that of love...and it only took me some couple thousands of years.” He smiled again, this time self deprecatingly and was saved from saying anything further as the waiter began to set their first plates on the table. 

Aziraphale served himself a few prawns and the escargot onto his plate and did the same for Amael who seemed to be figuring out the different forks. 

“Shall we bless the food?” Amael asked. 

“Oh, yes, of course, would you like to do the honors?” Aziraphale asked as he folded his hands in his lap. 

Amael said the prayer in a brief bit of Enochian, and Aziraphale had to repeat the words a few times before he got the meaning and felt a twinge of guilt* in his chest as he found himself counting all the things Amael did that Aziraphale should have been doing. 

He drank his wine and refilled the glass. 

“The smaller fork my dear,” Aziraphale told him. 

“Oh, thank you,” Amael picked up his fork and poked at the escargot. “What is it?” 

“Snail,” Aziraphale answered as he popped one into his mouth. “It’s quite good once you move past the texture.” 

Amael looked apprehensive but took a tentative bite. 

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked. 

“The texture is...rather slimy isn’t?” Amael asked as he took another bite. “But I do like the flavors.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Just wait until we get to dessert.” 

* * *

“Aziraphale” Gabriel looked surprised to see him waiting in his office. “I thought you returned to Earth. Michael said that the angel Amael went with you.” 

“I did, and he did,” Aziraphale answered. “I’ve come back to check on Crowley, and to ask why you nor Michael, saw fit to tell me that weapons were taken from the armory while the quartermaster was away. Angelic weapons that were used to hurt Crowley.” 

“It happened when you and Crowley had fun averting the battle we have waited for millenniums for,” Gabriel said matter of fact. “Everyone was so distracted because of your monumental cock-up that we didn’t notice it until after we had retaken inventory.” 

“You had no business hiding that from me,” Aziraphale pointed at him. “I understand that you, nor the fellow angles may hold an ounce of sympathy for a demon who was once one of our own, but…” Aziraphale took a deep breath, “but damn it, Gabriel, I may have averted the apocalypse because I believed the world didn’t need to end for your inane war against those below, but I am still a Principality and I will be told things that are of importance.” 

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stared at Aziraphale wide-eyed in shock.

“I have put up with your holier than thou act for just about six thousand Millenium and I bit my tongue far more times than I can count, because I cared about what you and the other’s thought of me, I used to look up to you Gabriel, Heaven’s knows why at this point, but I did, at one point, I even thought we were friends, perhaps I made assumptions that had no value, but I at least thought you respected me enough to share information with me, no matter how old or how irrelevant it might be. However, I seemed to be wrong.” 

He didn’t wait for Gabriel’s response as he left the archangel’s office and made his way back to Crowley’s room. He dismissed the angels standing at the door and took the empty seat next to Crowley’s bedside. 

“Figures, the one time I decide to give Gabriel a piece of my mind, you’re unconscious...should’ve gotten someone to record it on that cell phone you insist I use,” Aziraphale sighed. “It’s hard to believe...well, frankly I don’t know what to believe anymore Crowley. No, that’s not true, I still believe in Her, and I still believe that us averting the apocalypse was the right thing to do. And I believe in us. I could never stop believing in us.” 

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of a sharp but hesitant knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he said in lieu of getting up. 

“Aziraphale I…” Gabriel paused when he saw Aziraphale’s hand entwined with Crowley’s but cleared his throat and held his head high, if slightly abashed. “These are invoices of the items that were taken from the armory. Two of the six items taken have been returned, and I told the Quartermaster you will be speaking with him about what might have happened.” 

He took a few steps towards the bed and set the folder at the foot of the bed. “Aziraphale…I'll leave you two be."

Aziraphale wasn't sure if he'd been expecting an apology of some sort, but he supposed for Gabriel that was as close to an apology he was possibly going to get. The folder would be a metaphorical olive branch if Aziraphale so chose. The only question being. Is that what he wanted to choose? 

He picked up the folder with steady hands and looked at each picture one by one. He recognized some of the weapons that had been taken and couldn’t begin to imagine the fear Crowley must have felt in those moments. He had his own flashbacks to Crowley’s face of fear when Aziraphale had nearly threatened him with the flaming sword. 

After they’d worn each other’s skin, and Aziraphale had seen all that Crowley had to endure in Hell, Aziraphale had made a vow to himself, as he waited for Crowley in the park when all was said and done, that he’d do his best to make sure Crowley never felt that fear again. 

He closed the folder with a soft snap. “Right then my dear, I’m off to speak with this quartermaster...Hopefully, it’s not the same one from Armageddon, he was rather insensitive about the whole discorporation thing you know...You know it’s strange, some of these weapons were made during the Enochian period...I don’t think we really speak Enochian much anymore.”

He tucked the folder under his arms as he stood and straightened his vest. “I’m going to find whoever has been treating you as well if they know what sorts of wounds you acquired, it might help to narrow down what...items were used.” 

He leaned down and kissed Crowley’s forehead. “I hope I’ll hear your voice again soon. Things just...aren’t the same without you around.” 

*Aziraphale considered himself to still be very much an angel despite everything that had happened but all this time around Amael was beginning to make him think that maybe he'd lost touch in some other aspects 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely not following proper hypnotism steps here just as a warning, I do feel like Crowley would be very open to hypnosis though, either as a participant or the one performing the hypnosis, maybe on Aziraphale if he was willing lol. 
> 
> As always enjoy!

**CHAPTER 7**

Dr. Anja was a few years older than Aziraphale with a short silver pompadour style haircut. She wore slim-fitting pants suits in whatever colored seemed to suit her tastes for that day. Always tastefully coordinated down to her fingernails.  She wore black sleek framed glasses, two pearl earrings and a gold band on her ring finger though her desk lacked pictures indicating whether or not she was married or even in a relationship. 

"Married to the job," she said when Crowley had asked in a fit of petulance when she dug in deep and immediately diagnosed him with depression, anxiety, and minor paranoia. She wasn't wrong, but well, it was rude to put one's faults on a silver platter without so much as an offer of a menu.

Crowley liked her, he would deny it if asked, but he liked her. He could talk to her and honestly feel as if he wouldn't be judged for the words coming out of his mouth. 

"Crowley," Dr. Anja had her pen poised on the notebook she took notes during their sessions. "Now that we've gotten to know each other a little better. I'd like to talk about that dream of yours. Or rather, dreams."

"Dreams...err, right yes of course," Crowley nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just dreams really. I'm sure lots of people feel like they experience an entire lifetime and avert a world ending Apocalypse in their dreams."

"Our subconscious can come up with a lot of interesting things when we give it the freedom," Dr. Anja agreed. "Reoccurring dreams are also quite common, but you're feeling as though our current reality is one long dream you can't seem to wake up from, correct?" 

Crowley shrugged. "I thought so...I'm not really sure anymore to be honest." He folded his hands together and stared at the chipping black polish. "I don't have them much anymore, and when I try to think about them I get migraines, and the details are fuzzy." 

Dr. Anja pulled a pocket watch hanging on a silver chain from her front pocket. 

"Crowley, with your permission, I'd like to try and hypnotize you," she said. "It is a wonderful tool in memory repression and I think it might help us get to the root of these dreams." 

"Hypnosis?" Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" 

She nodded. "I promise I won't make you cluck like a chicken." 

Crowley cracked a small smile. "I'd be disappointed if you don't at least attempt it... alright, shall I remain sitting or lie down?" 

"As you are is fine,", she held up the watch. "Watch carefully." 

She began to swing the watch back and forth and he followed with his eyes. It looked oddly familiar in some way, he was certain Aziraphale had one in the 16th century, commissioned out of silver with angel wings engraved on the back.

"How do you feel Crowley?" Dr. Anja asked. 

"Ssssleepy," Crowley mused as he continued to watch the clock. "Like ssssunbathing on a warm rock." 

"Good, that's good," she continued in a soft tone. "Don't fight that feeling. I want you to relax. Feel your limbs become looser. Listen to your body."

Crowley slumped back a little on the couch as his muscles did indeed relax. He felt like curling up with his head tucked into his arms. 

"I want you to think about your dreams Crowley, can you do that for me?" She asked softly. 

His head felt heavy as he nodded. 

"Good, that's very good Crowley." 

He could still hear the faint ticking over her voice. "I want you to tell me about the first dream. Can you do that for me?" 

"Headachesss," Crowley hissed softly. 

"No headaches," she sounded sure. "I promise." 

"I'm a demon, and Aziraphale's an angel...he wasss on apple tree duty, gave his flaming sword away? Can you believe that?" He smiled at the memory. 

"Seems like he wasn't a good angel," Dr. Anna's voice sounded far away. 

"No, he's a good angel, bloody good angel. Caress about the humans, all God's creaturesss and...and me...we ssstoped the Armageddon. Didn't want the word to burn. Sssea boiling and the Kraken...ugly thing if you asssk me…" 

"Like Aziraphale's book right?" 

Crowley shook his head. At least he thought he shook his head. 

"Not like his book, s'real. Thought ...thought Aziraphale died...lost my best friend," his breath hitched.

"Did this version of Aziraphale die?" 

"No...got dissscorporated," Crowley sniffed. "Possessed Madame Tracy then Adam sssplit'em up...nice kid for the Antichrist…m'glad we didn't kill him." 

Crowley tried to focus on Dr. Anja but all he could see was the ticking hands of the watch. 

"Focus Crowley," Dr. Anja told him calmly. "You and Aziraphale averted the Apocalypse. What happened next?" 

"Bad angels thasss what," Crowley huffed. "But we showed them. Showed them and the demons. Wisssh I could've ssseen Hastur's face when Aziraphale was bathing in holy water." He grinned. "Bet Gabriel would've pissed himself if we need those bodily functions. I roared hellfire in their faces. All thossse ssstuck two face angels. Acting all high and mighty just because they didn't…" he trailed off and got very quiet. 

"Because they didn't what Crowley?" Dr. Anja asked softly. 

Crowley wiped his eyes hastily. "I just asked bloody questions...whatss so bad about that?" 

"There's nothing wrong with asking questions Crowley," she told him. 

Crowley snorted. "Tell that to Her…. Aziraphale gives away his bloody flaming sssword and nothing...I give them the Apple and it's like I committed murder...maybe I should plant an apple tree...make Aziraphale an apple pie." 

"Crowley," Dr. Anja had reached forward and took hold of his chin and held his gaze. 

He hadn't noticed that she'd set the watch aside until his last thought was a deafening snap and he blacked out. 

He came to to the feeling of fingers in his hair and soft voices. He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked a few times to clear the fuzziness and stared up at Aziraphale. 

"Well hi there sleepyhead," Aziraphale smiled when he saw he was awake. 

"What happened?" Crowley's mouth felt dry and his felt his limbs shifting as if they'd moved around on their own. 

"You fell asleep during your session," Aziraphale answered. 

Crowley blinked confused. 

"We'd try hypnotism," Dr. Anja said. "I think I made you a tad too relaxed, it is not uncommon." 

"Right," Crowley nodded and popped his back as he stretched. "Did it help?" 

"Oh yes," Dr. Anja nodded. "In fact, if you're open to it, I'd like to try again during our next session." 

"Alright, if you're sure it'll help," Crowley agreed. 

"Excellent," she smiled and stood to walk them out. "I'll have those books for you as well next time." She told Aziraphale. 

"How long was I out?" Crowley asked as he followed Aziraphale back to his office to collect his things. 

"Oh, an hour I think," Aziraphale answered. "Dr. Anja called me during my independent study session. I offered to bring you back to my office, but she said having you there was no problem. You looked so peaceful. How you managed to get yourself into such a position is beyond me. It reminded me of some of the snakes at the zoo." 

"Surely you haven't forgotten how flexible I am," Crowley winked as he sat on Aziraphale's desk. 

"Behave, we're at school," Aziraphale swatted him with a stack of papers. 

"Never stopped us before," Crowley caught Aziraphale's sleeve and pulled him close. 

"Don't tempt me, Gabriel has been a monumental pain in my arse and I'd love nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off his face," Aziraphale fixed Crowley's collar. "But I really can't afford to, not with tenure so close I can taste it. I just found out they've decided to fast track it." 

Crowley sighed. "Fine, but once you secure your rightful spot we are going to Christen your office right? I'll get something black, thin and lacey~" 

Aziraphale bit his lip. "You sure you can't get something thin, black and lacey now?" 

"I would but I already bought something in a sinfully delicious red," Crowley smiled. 

"Dear Lord give me strength," Aziraphale muttered. 

Crowley grinned and leaned back on the desk as Aziraphale managed to step away after a chaste kiss and started to pack up his things. 

“You know my dear, I’m actually a little surprised that you agreed to see someone so readily, I thought it was going to be more teeth pulling,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley shrugged a little. “You were right in that there’s something about her. It’s...I feel compelled more than anything. Sort of like confession I think.” 

“Confession? Really?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley surprised. “Though, I suppose therapy could be thought of as a sort of confession. Never thought I’d heard those words coming out of that mouth. Honestly, I’m just glad at how much it’s improving your mood and your migraines...for a while there, I was worried you might…” 

“Might what?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale trailed off. 

“I was worried you might be getting fed up with me...with our life,” Aziraphale admitted. “I know it’s not even remotely close to what we had dreamed when we got together, but-”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted softly as he sat up to grab Aziraphale’s hands. “I could never get tired or fed up with my life with you. I love you and I love Adam. I am happy. I would never lie to you about that.” 

“I know,” Aziraphale leaned up and kissed him again. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

“But you love me,” Crowley smiled. 

“Every second of every day,” Aziraphale promised. 

Later that night as Crowley drifted off to sleep, Aziraphale’s voice carrying down the hall as he read Adam a bedtime story from a collection of fables, his last thoughts were of a garden with a tree in the center. 

A man and a woman. 

An angel, and a demon. 

And a figure in white. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than I intended, but at the same time I didn't want to drag it on, so it's a bit of a cliff hanger~ sorry for the late post, I hope to have the next one up in the next couple of days or so :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Aziraphale rubbed his temples as he leaned back in the desk chair. The notes he’d gathered and the notes from Gabriel were spread out on the desk before him but he couldn’t figure out what it was that was evading him. The quartermaster hadn’t been any help. 

It’d been the same one from the apocalypse that hadn’t happened, and he’d been just as rude, if not more. He’d come down from the rush that had been pulling the rank card on Gabriel and had tried a polite, subdued approach. 

All the quartermaster had talked about was the body Aziraphale had discorporated and the fact that he’d given away his flaming sword. 

Aziraphale huffed under his breath as he stood up and started to shuffle through the papers on the desk. 

“For hell's sake that happened over 6,000 years ago, let it go," he muttered under his breath. "I did. And the Almighty hasn't said anything since. I couldn't just stand by and let them go out there with nothing…"

"Aziraphale." 

He jumped a little startled and looked up to see Michael had addressed him.

"Michael…" Aziraphale eyed her warily. "I'm not leaving." 

Michael looked around the small office Aziraphale had more or less commandeered. The papers he was currently sorting through, pictures of the weapons with detailed notes tacked on the wall, an open notebook with Aziraphale's handwriting on the pages. Gabriel's notes on a separate pad. 

"No...that's not why I'm here," Michael had a folder clutched in one hand as she stepped into the small office. "I've finished my report on his flat. Gabriel has instructed I give it to you." 

Aziraphale straightened a bit surprised. "Has he already looked at it?" 

"No," Michael answered. "He felt it best that I bring it to you." 

"Oh," Aziraphale looked at the folder even more surprised. 

He'd been almost certain that Gabriel would have acted like nothing had happened after his speech. Michael seemed to be trying to figure something out as Aziraphale took the folder and began to read through the pages. 

"Was there something else?" Aziraphale asked when he noticed Michael hadn’t left. 

"In his flat, you said Crowley still held his faith," Michael answered. "Or rather, that he might still have some faith left. Do you believe that? I always wondered…" 

She sounded contemplative. 

"I believe he does," Aziraphale replied. "But it’s one of the few things we don't really discuss…why?"

"Before we put Crowley to 'sleep', he had brief moments of consciousness. I don't think he actually knew where he was and he was speaking Latin...he was praying."

"Oh," Aziraphale swallowed around the emotion thick in his throat. 

"Sandalphon brought it to my attention that he was praying for you. Specifically to Her to keep you safe…" she told him. 

Of course, bleeding, bloody and broken Crowley would use his energy left to pray for Aziraphale instead of trying to heal himself. He had to smile a bit. 

"There was one more thing," Michael said as she stepped forward. She reached for the report and Aziraphale let her handle it as she shuffled the pages to show him a few pictures. 

"Some of these feathers, I understand the black belong to... Crowley, but the others are two sets. At first glance they seem almost identical except this set belong to an angel, maybe smaller in size and going through molt," she explained. 

Aziraphale looked at the feathers she pointed out and looked between the sets. 

"You're right," Aziraphale agreed. "I'd say they're just starting, that sort of narrows it down…" he looked at the picture of Crowley's feathers and felt an ache in his chest. 

Crowley had his molt almost a month ago, he'd possibly have to wait till the next one for the feathers he lost to grow back. He closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. 

"Thank you for sharing this with me...I know things haven't been the best between us," Aziraphale told her. 

"Not the words I'd use," Michael smoothed down her jacket. 

"I just…why have you allowed Crowley to get better here? For that matter why didn't you just take him to hell?" Aziraphale found himself asking. 

"It was Gabriel's idea," Michael answered. "I proposed we take Crowley to Hell, or someplace on Earth and just leave him be...as for you, there were always plans to do something. Leave you be for a few centuries, let you wander about on Earth. Maybe Gabriel thinks by helping Crowley and by extension you, you'd be more willing to go along with whatever he proposes. But if you want to know you'll have to take it up with him." 

Aziraphale watched her go and tried to think of whatever it was Gabriel might try to bargain out of him. He shook his head after a few minutes. He'd deal with Gabriel later. 

"Aziraphale," Amael appeared in the doorway. 

"Oh hello Amael," Aziraphale smiled. "Is everything alright?"

"This came for you," Amael answered. 

He held out a small slip of paper, he could smell the sulfur that tinged the edges and read the crude handwriting. 

_St. James Park. Midnight. _

Aziraphale frowned and flipped the card over but there was no signature or identifying marks of who could have sent it. Was that midnight tonight? Or the following? 

"Do you think it's a trap?" Amael asked.

"I don't know," Aziraphale answered. "To be honest. I'm more confused about the timing. Do you think they mean this coming midnight?... I suppose I'll figure it out. I do however have a favor to ask of you." 

"Of course," Amael nodded. 

"I was wondering if you might be willing to speak to someone in surveillance for me, I could kick myself for not thinking about it before, but what if we happened to catch the angels who had gone into Crowley's flat before they entered? I'm sure it's a long shot, but it doesn't hurt to check right?"

"I'd be happy to look into that for you," Amael smiled. "Are you going to meet whoever sent you that note?" 

"It might be for the best, trap or no trap," Aziraphale answered. 

"I could go with you," Amael offered. 

"That's kind of you, but no," Aziraphale smiled softly. "If it a trap, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you. I hope I'm being to forward by saying that I think of you as a friend, and if you were to be hurt, well, I don't want to see you hurt."

"I've come to see you as a friend too Aziraphale, and if you're sure. Be careful alright?" Amael told him. 

"Of course," Aziraphale assured him. 

He left Amael in the office and straightened his waistcoat as he made his way towards the quartermaster. If it was, in fact, a trap, he was not going to go down without a fight. 


End file.
